


Don’t Look Back In Anger

by merycula (thanksillpass)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: 4/7, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, KiKasa Day, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanksillpass/pseuds/merycula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirteen-years-old Kise has an unrequited crush on fifteen-years-old Kasamatsu, but he seems to be over it when he joins Kasamatsu's basketball team two years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t Look Back In Anger

At fifteen, Kasamatsu was lanky, awkward, and way more angry at the world than he should. Honestly, he was doing well at school, played basketball, and successfully kept his younger brothers from becoming arsonists, but he was a teenager, and he was  _angry_. Because he had zits, because he couldn’t talk to girls, because his band was never going to be famous, or even leave Moriyama’s garage, for that matter. Hell, because his cereal turned too saggy one day while he jerked off  _three times_  during one shower – just because he was a teenager.

Mostly because he was two hundred percent gay, though, and beginning to think he would die a virgin, since the only guy whose gaydar seemed to be working, and steering him in Yukio’s general direction was a thirteen-year-old with perfect skin, and the tendency to embarrass him in public, by using the same cheap tricks on him as he did on all the older girls that found him and his dubious seduction techniques so cute.

“Senpai, you look tired,” drawled Kise, flashing a dazzling grin that even Kasamatsu recognized as a force to be reckoned with.

He only rolled his eyes, too exhausted after the basketball practice to even scold that brat for basically stalking him after school, and tried to bypass Kise, who promptly followed.

“Probably because you’ve been running through my mind all day,” he added flirtatiously, batting his ridiculous eyelashes.

Yukio could only stop and gape incredulously, because how could  _that_  work on _anyone_ , but Moriyama was unabashedly taking notes behind him, and only shrugged when Kasamatsu sent him an outraged look.

“What? Kid’s got game. The ladies love him. It just doesn’t work on  _you._ ”

“Maybe because he’s  _thirteen_.”

“Love doesn’t know age!” objected Kise heatedly, prompting Moriyama to jot down another absurd aphorism, and Yukio to groan in frustration.

It never ended; Kise Ryouta was the worst kid he has ever met, undeterred by any threat or act of violence that Kasamatsu threw at him, following him around everywhere with a love-struck expression, and cheesy lines. Yukio couldn’t _wait_  to graduate from middle school and finally get rid of him, but when the fated day finally came, his long-awaited relief was replaced with indescribable guilt.

Kise cried.

He cried real tears, sobbing uncontrollably like the child he was, as if Kasamatsu leaving school was the worst tragedy that could possibly happen to him. He cried and pleaded, and Yukio suddenly couldn’t understand why he’s never taken this crush seriously, if for decency’s sake alone. Kise seemed so heartbroken in that moment, that Kasamatsu couldn’t stop his hand from flying up to pat the kid’s head comfortingly even if he tried.

Of course, Kise took it as permission to wrap his shaking arms around Yukio’s middle, and burrow his wet, snotty face in his chest, which grossed him out only a bit, and didn’t annoy him at all. It made him sad, really, filled him with regret that he was sure to forget soon, but at that moment compelled him to offer comfort.

He gently pried Kise’s arms off himself, unceremoniously ripped the button closest to his heart, and gave it to Kise, whose eyes widened impossibly with shock, and then lit up with hope, and gratitude, and maybe even love, Kasamatsu wasn’t sure, since couldn’t identify something he knew nothing about, and he was  _angry_ again, at himself.

But, oddly, he wasn’t angry when Kise impulsively lurched up, and brushed his wet, salty lips against Yukio’s, making his first kiss ever the shortest and snottiest kiss in history.

* * *

 

Two years and one boyfriend later, Kasamatsu was still a virgin, and he was still angry, even though he was almost an adult – less awkward, more proportionately-built, with clearer skin, more achievable goals, and almost full control over his own junk. It simply seemed that anger was in his nature, his mode of expression, something that instilled fear in his underclassmen before it slowly grew into respect, which eventually earned him the title of the team’s captain in his last year of high school.

He wasn’t surprised to see Kise on his list of new club members – it was no secret that he transferred to another school and took up basketball right after Yukio graduated for some reason, and turned out to be some kind of monstrous genius, in addition to being a model and an exemplary student, so it was only natural for Kaijo to scout him. He dyed his hair blond, got an earring, filled out very nicely, and apparently went through a massive growth spurt, towering over Kasamatsu in all his confident glory. In all honesty, he took Yukio’s breath away.

Until he opened his mouth.

As Kasamatsu listened to Kise’s over-the-top introduction, followed by a smug and defiant act of insubordination, he wondered if the skinny boy who cried at his graduation was even there anymore. Since Yukio seemed to be perpetually angry, and prone to violent reactions, especially when it came to protecting the things most important to him, like basketball, he offered Kise a piece of his mind, and that was that.

“I’m sorry, senpai,” said Kise when they started heading home after practice. “Seems I got back into my bad habit of trying to impress you in all the wrong ways…”

Kasamatsu blinked in surprise. “I still can’t believe you even remember me. You sure have been popular these past two years.”

“I could never forget my first kiss!” protested Kise vehemently, eyes bright, reminding Yukio of the boy he used to know. “But don’t worry, senpai, I won’t do things like that anymore! Promise!”

It didn’t surprise Kasamatsu to hear that – he wasn’t naive enough as to think that entire hoards of fangirls didn’t help Kise get over his old crush on a middle school upperclassman – but the irrational pang of disappointment he felt upon hearing those words certainly did. Oh, how the tables have turned…

“You’d better,” he threatened jokingly, forcing on a smile. “I should kick you for pathetic excuse for a first kiss, by the way.”

He half-expected Kise to flirtatiously suggest another chance to do better, like he undoubtedly would two years ago, but Kise only laughed good-naturedly, so Yukio smiled back weakly, not sure if relieved or dissatisfied again. He asked what made him take up the sport – just anything to change the subject.

“I saw someone really cool play in my new school,” replied Kise simply, sounding a bit bitter.

Yukio huffed. “Are you saying I’m not cool? You’ve watched me play countless times.”

“No,” said Kise seriously, shaking his head. “I’ve only ever watched  _you,_ senpai. I didn’t pay attention to anything else.”

Kasamatsu swallowed thickly, heat rising to his cheeks, completely unable to find, let alone form any words. He felt really awful for constantly dismissing Kise the way he did back then, but he was just a kid, they both were, and he couldn’t possibly know, or even  _imagine_  how serious Kise was about it. At least, that’s what he had to tell himself.

“Sorry, senpai, I’m making you uncomfortable again,” mumbled Kise suddenly. “I promise that’s in the past! We’re just gonna be teammates now. Friends, if you’ll have me.”

Yukio punched his shoulder playfully, grinning in relief. “As long as you keep being this respectful of your captain, brat.”

Kise grinned in what Kasamatsu thought was relief too, and he felt strangely light when they went their separate ways again.

* * *

 

Yukio was grateful for the opportunity to become Kise’s friend this time around, as he never really got to know him well in middle school. Some things seemed the same, like Kise’s inner magnet for women that nothing but interfered with his practice, or his generally unnerving outgoingness and obnoxiously flashy behavior, but Kasamatsu could tell he’s changed a lot too. He couldn’t decide if he should curse or bless Teiko and Aomine Daiki for making Kise into who he was now, but it was obvious that current Kise Ryouta wasn’t the kid Yukio went to middle school with.

Which was good, because Kise was a much better friend and teammate than he was a love-struck admirer with cliché pick-up lines, and Yukio definitely wasn’t developing a hopeless crush of his own, no matter how stunning Kise has become, both in body and in heart. It made Kasamatsu feel weird sometimes, how little  _he_  was different in comparison, his ambitions and mindset, but he supposed progress didn’t always mean change.

What mattered was that they worked now, the way they both were at this particular moment in their lives, in which they were friends, Kise was his ace, and Kasamatsu was his captain. Kise didn’t love him anymore, but he came to love Kaijo with all he had, and he was going to bring them victory, which was enough for Yukio.

Except, maybe it wasn’t.

After all, they lost once, then twice, and before Kasamatsu knew it, he didn’t achieve any of his goals, despite their best efforts, and he was going to graduate high school without accomplishing anything. He kept picking Kise up when he fell time after another, never let anyone see him cry, and it still wasn’t enough, which was solely Yukio’s responsibility. He never doubted Kise would lead this team to victory next time, but he couldn’t help feeling bitter about not being able to ever experience that with him.

Which made him realize how many other things he wanted to experience with Kise that he never would, because he refused to acknowledge his own steadily growing feelings for almost a year; at least younger Kise was that much braver than him.

“I hope this time my graduation won’t be so dramatic,” he quipped when he noticed Kise awkwardly and very conspicuously loitering near his table in the library. “There’s no need to check in on me, you know. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“I really don’t,” said Kise, finally sitting down, and he sounded so sincerely convinced, Kasamatsu kind of wanted to cry. “It’s weird at practice without you. I’ll get used to it, but don’t make me go back today. Hayakawa-senpai keeps doing this random violent crying thing whenever he looks at me. I think I make him remember you.”

Yukio simply nodded, knowing that the condition of Kise’s foot already excused him from overexerting himself, especially off-season, which was absolutely no reason for skipping practice and showing undying support for his teammates, but could warrant a day off to spend with a friend he would soon part with. Again. For a moment, Kasamatsu wished he was born at least one year later.

“And, yes, I probably will cry at your graduation, because I’m a crier, and I  _will_ miss you, senpai, but you’re not obliged to give me another pity-button I will inevitably lose somehow,” continued Kise lightheartedly, winking. “It’s a dumb tradition anyway, don’t you think? I’m glad I grew out of it~ I mean, it’s just a button, like billions of other buttons! I always give mine to the first girl that asks, because it really doesn’t mean anything to me, so she might as well have it~ It’s funny how something meaningless to us makes someone else happy…”

Yukio just nodded again, swallowing. He always felt conflicted whenever Kise causally brought up their history like that, as if he didn’t care about it at all, and considered it nothing more than an embarrassing childhood memory, because if that was the case, why did he keep mentioning it like he didn’t want to let it go? And was he just reading too much into this, or was Kise trying to tell him something?

* * *

 

He didn’t let Kise skip any more practices, so he started visiting them instead. With less than a week to graduation ceremony, he honestly didn’t have anything better to do than making sure he was leaving his beloved team in good hands. Except the fact that Hayakawa really  _did_  that random violent crying thing whenever he looked at Kise or him, everything seemed to be in order, and Kasamatsu felt oddly at peace. Plus, watching Kise play from the bench was something Yukio never really experienced, something that turned out to be even more gloriously captivating than he anticipated.

The sudden vibration of Kise’s phone that was left in his care startled Kasamatsu into nearly dropping it. The annoying jingle of seemingly countless key chains reminded him of every time he had that phone shoved in his face, accompanied by Kise’s whiny questions. He couldn’t help but stare at the key chains now, smiling, trying to count them perhaps, and already suspecting he was going to miss that awful sound.

That’s when he saw  _that._

Among the cute and sparkly accessories, on an old and shabby string, there it was – the same ordinary plastic button he gave Kise almost exactly three years ago, nearly transparent with age and abuse, as if touched and held a thousand times. Yukio felt the familiar rush of blood in his head, the unmistakable sign of incoming anger, and when he lifted his head to look at Kise, he was grinning obliviously, innocently waving at Kasamatsu as if he hasn’t been consciously  _lying_  to him for a year.

He was too angry to speak when Kise finally approached him, but the way he was still clutching at the button probably gave Kise a hint, judging by the sudden drop of the corners of his mouth. Yukio couldn’t speak, and neither could Kise, if his helpless and unattractive gaping was anything to go by, so they didn’t talk, so Kasamatsu simply walked away, and that was that.

He was still angry two days later on his graduation ceremony, which Kise didn’t show up to, and he told Moriyama he wouldn’t come to the party. He was still angry when he told his family that he  _was_  going to that party, and went to Kise’s house instead. He was angry because Kise answered the door in his pj’s, looking like his world has ended,  _again,_ and he seemed shocked to see Kasamatsu.

“Are you gonna kick me for still liking you, senpai?” he asked dejectedly, reluctantly letting Yukio inside.

Kasamatsu scoffed, nervously running his hand through his hair. “I should kick you for going out of your way for an entire year to convince me you  _didn’t._ You’ve always liked wasting time, haven’t you, Kise?”

“Wha-”

Yukio was still angry when he watched realization slowly dawning on Kise, whose eyes widened comically just like three years ago, only now there was no hope in them, but hesitation and uncertainty, as if Kise was  _afraid_  to hope, and it infuriated Kasamatsu even more. He probably should say something, but that would result in even more time wasted on telling their sides of the story, and the only conclusion they could possibly reach was that they were both oblivious and stubborn idiots, and that much Yukio knew already.

Their second kiss was angry.

The third one, the one Kise dazedly returned, was tentative and much too slow, so the next kiss was even angrier, more desperate, until Kise finally got with the program, and sucked all of Kasamatsu’s anger off his lips. As he all but pushed Kise upstairs to his bedroom, Yukio briefly wondered how many people he’s kissed to be so disarmingly good at it, but that train of thought only led to questions about Kise’s experience in what they were about to do, and he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to get angry anymore.

Truthfully, everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, even before he finally had Kise above him, staring down at him with stunned expression the entire time. But, oddly, even though they most probably made all the rookie mistakes in the book, turning Yukio’s first time into the shortest and most awkward first time in history, he didn’t get angry even for a second.

* * *

 

Another two years later, Kasamatsu wasn’t any less angry at the world, to be perfectly honest. It was difficult not to, as he sat alone in the café he absolutely hated just because it offered free Wi-Fi, after he just got off the phone with his mother, who told him his twin brothers almost accidentally burned his old room, and resentfully waiting for someone he hasn’t seen in a while, even though he barely slept two hours that night.

He certainly looked even worse than he felt, probably smelled too, so the fact that Kise Ryouta showed up looking all fresh and beautiful, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, could only anger him even more – not to mention the waitress almost spilling hot coffee on Yukio once she laid her overworked eyes on the famous model.

Kasamatsu felt a little bit sick just looking at him.

“Senpai,” he sighed, like seeing him was some sort of great liberation. “How have you been?”

Yukio rolled his eyes. “I’m shocked you still remember me,” he grumbled into his coffee.

“As if I could forget my first time!” joked Kise, grinning widely at the distant memory that still made Kasamatsu cringe with embarrassment. “Or the last time~ Ahh, I will  _never_  forget the last time!”

Kise positively squealed, hiding his noticeably flushed face in his hands and shaking his head. Yukio couldn’t do anything about the heat rising to his cheeks either, because even his  _neighbors_  would never forget the last time, but he forced himself to keep a straight face as he leaned over the table to halfheartedly whack Kise upside the head.

“Idiot, you’re making a scene,” he hissed, barely holding back a smile of his own. “So? What kept you so busy these past two weeks that you couldn’t even spare me a text?”

Kise waved his hand nonchalantly. “You know me, senpai,” he drawled. “I hate being  _tied down_ ~”

“Oh, really?” challenged Kasamatsu. “Too bad… But I’ll be sure to remember that for future reference.”

Kise scowled, watching Yukio’s face carefully, and his frown gradually deepened when he didn’t see any sign that Kasamatsu was joking. He always enjoyed how easily worried Kise got when he thought he was being categorically denied something simply because he took the joke too far, and Yukio decided that a little bit of torture was in order for ignoring him for two weeks.

“The twins might end up as arsonists after all,” he said lightly, but Kise’s dejected reaction, or rather the lack of it, made him sigh in defeat. “So? I’m assuming you have surprise? Something that will sweep me off my feet? You wouldn’t risk radio silence for so long otherwise. Spill.”

“Senpai!” protested Kise in a whiny tone. “Why do you always have to ruin everything?! How is that supposed to be a surprise now?!”

Kasamatsu couldn’t hold back a triumphant smirk. Sometimes he thought it was bordering on creepy how well he knew Kise after all these years, but it mostly just gave him the advantage in literally every possible situation. Not that Kise didn’t have his own weapons, like the big, sad puppy look he was currently directing at Yukio, only to retreat when their eyes met, and add a maddening lip tremble that made Kasamatsu feel so guilty he could only react angrily in order not to  _cry._

“I’ll kick your ass if you don’t tell me, how’s that for a surprise to you?”

Kise sniffled theatrically, still refusing to look at Yukio. “Oh, nothing. Just got the transfer I asked for, and I could move in with you, like, tomorrow. Not a big deal…”

Kasamatsu was speechless, in all honesty. Kise was stubbornly staring at his fingernails, but Yukio’s silence eventually got the better of him, forcing him to look up and gauge for reaction. The sight that Kasamatsu was presenting must have been rather alarming, because Kise’s eyes widened, and he leaned in to peer in Yukio’s face with a worried pout.

“Senpai? Senpai, are you angry?”

Kasamatsu thought about it for a second, but anger wasn’t anywhere  _near_  the spectrum of emotions he was presently feeling. He was shocked, because they’ve only ever talked about it as a distant possibility, and he never actually prepared himself for the eventuality. He was relieved, because he couldn’t help but occasionally worry that another two years in a long-distance relationship might not be so great. He was  _happy,_  because the idea of seeing Kise every single day again, of falling asleep next to him every single night was just- There was no words for it.

So he wasn’t angry – he was anything but.

“No, Kise, I’m just surprised.”


End file.
